


the sting of death

by Ingu



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/pseuds/Ingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric’s hand is reaching for his death scythe, and Alan realises with sudden clarity what he is planning to do. Just one more soul, it is all Eric needs to reach one thousand. All that is needed to free them both from this nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sting of death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Archadian_Skies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/gifts).



> Here is a little something I wrote for the lovely archadianskies in November 2014 which I recently found in my computer.

“But there is a soul right there…”

Eric’s hand is reaching for his death scythe, and Alan realises with sudden clarity what he is planning to do. Just one more soul, it is all Eric needs to reach one thousand. All that is needed to free them both from this nightmare.

Ciel Phantomhive is innocent, young, the perfect soul. But Alan can’t let it happen, can’t let Eric do this to himself anymore. He ignores the sharp stab of pain in his heart and the weakness in his body, and pushes himself from the ground. Eric is readying himself to swing, and it takes every last drop of determination Alan has to meet him before he could raise his weapon.

In the next breath, Alan’s hand catches Eric’s wrist in a vice grip, the other hand raising to Eric’s cheek. Alan guides him closer, and without thinking, pulls him in for a kiss.

When their lips meet, Alan finds himself wondering why he hadn’t done this earlier. Eric tastes like blood, like death and ash and smoke, but there was also an intoxicating sweetness, and it’s something Alan’s missed all his life.

Slowly, he feels Eric go slack before him, hears Eric’s hitching breath. Alan’s fingers inch towards the weapon still clutched in Eric’s hand, and Eric relinquishes it without thought.

It could only have been seconds, but when Alan lets himself pull away for breath it feels like an eternity has passed between them. Every thought and feeling left unsaid for eons laid bare through a single action.

Eric’s eyes are wet, and maybe Alan just needs his glasses, but his own vision is blurring as well.

For some reason he doesn’t know, Alan laughs, a soft huff of air that sends a sharp jolt of pain through his chest and makes him feel like he’s choking. He sways on his feet, and Eric’s arm is there instantly, wrapping around his waist, one hand gripping his shoulder, holding onto Alan, standing closer than they’ve ever been before.

He lets himself stand there, leaning against Eric, wondering just how much longer he’d have. It had been getting harder and harder to hide his illness, and in the last few days, he could feel him coming closer and closer to the end of the line.

“Don’t do this,” Alan says, and his voice is barely a whisper. “You have to stop, Eric.”

He wants to say he’s not worth it, not worth Eric staining his own soul with the weight of a thousand innocent lives. Not worth the fire and fury that is sure to await Eric now that he’s done what he did.

“No,” Eric says. And it is the conviction behind that single word that tells Alan that to Eric, he _is_ worth of all of that. That somehow, the silly Shinigami trainee who cried over the deaths of strangers is worth more to Eric than his own life, than a thousand lives, than the fate of Eric’s own soul.

He had known his illness was hurting Eric. But he had never imagined just how much, or how far Eric had been willing to go to save him. He had been resigned to his own death, but Eric could not just step back and watch, not if there’s the slightest hope that Alan can still be saved.

“I’m not going to let you die,” says Eric. “I won’t.”

Alan is silent for a moment, but then he shakes his head, gripping Eric’s death scythe tighter in his hand.

“No more, Eric.” Alan stares into Eric’s eyes, and makes sure he’s looking back. “I won’t let you kill any more people in my name.”

Nine hundred and ninety-nine souls, lost for his sake. Eric had sacrificed everything chasing a fairytale. How much pain must he have endured? The secrets, the guilt, the doubt. All of these deaths, because of him.

Alan takes a breath, and steps back, lets Eric’s hands fall to his sides as the distance between them grows.

“From now on, Eric…” he says.

“I’ll kill them myself.”

He doesn’t wait for a reaction, barely registers the shock on Eric’s face before he turns and stabs the weapon through the demon’s body. It was a fool to let down his guard so easily, to let himself drift closer to Alan. Doubtlessly, it had wanted to gloat, laugh at the tragedy of their twisted story.

But now, it will not have that opportunity, not anymore.

Time slows to a standstill, and Alan barely pays attention to the cinematic record unfolding before his eyes. He has no interest in the demon’s story, nor to judge him for his countless sins. He only has one goal.

Ciel Phantomhive is innocent, no matter how hard the boy played at stoicism. His youth is visible to anyone who sees the terror in his eyes as the remains of what used to be ‘Sebastian Michaelis’ flies apart before him into bloodied pieces.

Strangely enough, the demon’s blood is as warm as any human’s, and, Alan soon finds, the same temperature as his master’s.

Without his attack dog to play guardian, the boy is too easy to dispose of. It takes barely seconds for Alan to collect his soul, a tiny, fragile orb of light no different from any other he’s seen.

The final soul in his hand, he turns back towards Eric, and pretends he doesn’t see the boys’ terror reflected on those beloved features.

“Here,” Alan says, thrusting a hand and offering the orb of light to Eric. Belatedly, he realises he is covered with blood, and the sleeves of his coat are stained an even darker shade of black. He pretends not to notice, focusing instead on Eric, who seems to stand frozen to the spot.

“One thousand souls,” says Alan.

Eric may be chasing a fairytale, but everything he’s done was done for him. Nine hundred and ninety-nine lives had perished at Eric’s hand.

Perhaps Alan couldn’t stop him, perhaps he couldn’t erase the weight of those deaths that have already come before, but he can save Eric from adding any more sins to his ledger. He can save Eric from killing anyone else. Now, he and Eric are the same, fallen Shinigami with no hope of redemption. Now, they are both fugitives, deserters, destined to be chased to the ends of the earth to pay for these murders.

What was the price of one more soul, if it meant they could have eternity together?

Slowly, Eric walks forward, his movements stiff, his breaths harsh. Why does Eric stare at Alan like something inside him has broken? Alan feels his own expression fall with confusion.

Then, then he is wrapped in Eric’s arms, and for some reason they’re on the floor, legs folded beneath them. Eric grips him tighter than ever before, and there are choked sobs wracking Eric as Alan feels himself being pressed to Eric’s body.

It gets a little harder to breathe.

“Eric?” He says.

The last soul is still in his fist, crushed between their bodies, and a sudden violent pain in his chest makes his entire body seize. A cough wells up in his throat, and the arms around him are gone as he tries to curl in on himself, unable to stop the coughing fit that sends bright drops of red splattering onto the ground. His mind is blank but for the pain that now radiates to every part of his body. Everything hurts, he can’t breathe, he-

There is still something gripped in his hand.

-

The next thing he knows, it’s snowing.

The sky is alight with bright specks of colour, and it takes too long for him to fight through the haze to see what they really are. He’s not sure when, or how, but the world has shifted, and there is warmth surrounding him, Eric is there, behind him, Alan’s back is against his chest, and the night sky is alight with the energy of a thousand souls.

“Remember that night?” Alan says, his voice hoarse, barely a whisper. “When you found me in that flower garden?”

Even then, Alan had admired Eric. That was the day when he realised that through all his bravado, through all Eric’s playboy ways and tough-guy act, he cared more about the people around him than anyone else. That was the night, Alan thinks, that he fell in love with him.

The sky was alight then too, with the petals of Erica flowers.

“Yeah, of course I do.” Eric’s breath is warm against Alan’s neck, and he feels Eric press soft kisses into his hair. “You were the most ridiculous Shinigami I had ever met, sobbing over a life that couldn’t be saved.”

_Like you’re one to talk_ , Alan thinks. He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come out, and the world seems a little dimmer.

Eric’s fingers are digging at Alan’s hand, and he absently remembers he’s holding something, something important. Eric is trying to make him open his hand, and his movements get more and more insistent.

Alan watches, a little confused, but then he lets him, lets Eric pry open his fingers to reveal what is wrapped beneath. He watches as another tiny orb of light floats up into the sky to join the others above.

He wants to live, Alan realises that now, as the world slowly dims around him, as the struggle to bring air into his lungs gets harder and harder to win, as the pain in his chest fades into a single, mute note.

He wants to live.

For Eric, for himself, for the life they can have, together at each other’s side.

“We’ll be alright,” Eric whispers in Alan’s ear, as his arms wind tighter around Alan’s frame.

It’s getting colder.

_We’ll be alright,_ is Alan’s last thought before he falls into the darkness.

 


End file.
